August 14 2010
Music can have an unexpected impact on its listeners, as I found the other day while crawling past a group of the local jeunesse dorée; the hoodies of which our great Cleggeron leader speaks so fondly and whom, I believe, he once invited us to hug. (I daresay that clearing away the Asbo is a step towards closer towards the desired integration of the hoodies into the big society.)
Call me old-fashioned, but I did not really fancy leaping from the ancestral Jeep Grand Cherokee and clasping one of these youngsters to my waistcoated bosom. Something told me that this gesture of inclusiveness in the big society might be misconstrued by these young connoisseurs of super-strength lager and high-tar cigarettes.
Nevertheless, mindful of my duties as a little member of the big society, I decided to wind down the windows and crank up the volume on the car stereo, just then playing a CD of Charles Trenet. The look of bewilderment on their young faces when the air around them was filled with the tones of the French balladeer was priceless. I only wish that I had thought to take a picture, which I could have forwarded to my local, grass-roots, coalition commissar.